


Standing on Principle

by Canaryhowl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Legal Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaryhowl/pseuds/Canaryhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt doesn’t need the psychopaths he takes down to remind him time and again that he’s no different than them; he’s nothing like them. He has a code, a moral compass guiding him; religious convictions keeping him on the right path; a father who raised him right and whose memory he will always respect; and a city to protect. So when a new vigilante enters the picture—one who has no qualms using lethal force to clean up the city and put criminals away for good—Matt’s convictions are tested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Cross-posted from fanfiction.net. Thanks to Esther-Channah for Beta reading this chapter!

 

 

Chapter 1: Punishment

 

Matt’s entire body tensed in preparation for another blow. He could withstand the punishment, heal, regroup, maybe even return stronger and more focused for a rematch, but today he was at the mercy of his assailant. His body protested his every attempt to move, to get up and rejoin the fight, and with at least a couple of broken bones and a terrible concussion, Matt couldn’t quite override his body’s demands. 

Lying down in a dank alleyway, Matt’s face was flush against the asphalt. A warm sticky substance—his blood, he realized—was flowing from his nose, the coppery scent mixing with the stale urine from drunks relieving themselves and rotting, days-old Chinese food from the dumpster to overwhelm his sense of smell.

Ears still ringing in the aftermath of the explosion, the world around him flitted in and out of existence, clarity increasing with each passing moment. The fractured outline of the alley that his damaged radar sense currently afforded him alerted him to the presence of a man standing over him.

Matt tried to speak, but only managed a hiss of pain.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, strong and sure, and Matt found himself over onto his back.

A grunt of relief, then a gruff voice cut through Matt’s hazy senses. “Good. You’re still alive. I didn’t want to kill you, you know. I respect you for taking down Fisk, I really do. It’s nothing personal; just needed to incapacitate you and finish out my work. But know this—if you ever interfere again, I’ll put you down.”

 

* * *

  

Karen was waiting in the office when Foggy arrived. He’d had a shitty morning. The hot water was down in his apartment building, the bakery at the corner was out of his favorite muffin, and some asshole on the street had knocked him over, spilling hot coffee all over Foggy’s suit. So he wasn’t very surprised when Karen gave him news that fit in perfectly with the rest of his morning.

“Matt’s called in sick. Says he has flu. He sounded pretty bad, so I told him to take the rest of the week off and rest up.”

 Foggy sighed and sank into the nearest seat. “We have an actual client coming in for a meeting today, and he chooses now to get sick?” Foggy had half a mind to allot a restricted number of Daredevil days to his law partner, enacting strict penalties for going over.

 Karen rolled her eyes, as Foggy headed into his office to grab a clean shirt. When he returned, Karen was ushering a woman through the door. Slender, well dressed, her red hair styled in waves, the woman was strikingly beautiful, yet something about her unsettled Foggy.

“Shit.” 

“Foggy!” Karen reprimanded her boss, and then turned toward their guest to apologize.   

“Karen, that’s Natasha Romanov, the fucking Black Widow! You’re telling me that our prospective client is the fucking Black Widow and you didn’t even notice?”

“Shit,” Karen swore, backing away from the auburn-haired woman until Foggy stood between her and the other woman. She glanced over at Foggy. “In my defense, I’ve been a bit preoccupied with everything that’s happened.”

Natasha raised a slender red eyebrow and then plastered a polite smile on her face, extending her hand toward the lawyer.

Shocked out of his stupor, Foggy returned the handshake after a moment’s hesitation. “Sorry about that. It’s not every day an Avenger walks into our law practice. I’m Foggy Nelson. Foggy. Matt Murdock, my partner, is out sick. And this wonderful lady is our secretary or something, Karen.” Giving his most charming smile, he led the two women into the conference room. 

Since Natasha hadn’t hightailed it out of there yet, Foggy decided not to push his luck any further, asking politely, “So, what brings you to the offices of Nelson and Murdock?”

“As you may have seen on the news recently, I have exposed myself to public scrutiny. With S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsing, I currently lack the support of the government. I’m exploring my legal options as a precautionary method, in case it comes to that. A friend advised me to shop my case around to different law firms to find the best fit.” 

“That’s great advice!” Foggy opined, “I’m glad you’ve included us on your list. Here at Nelson and Murdock, we—”

Natasha stood up from her seat at the conference table, cutting Foggy short. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time—or mine. I’ve been underwhelmed so far and nothing you say will dig you out of that hole. I’ll come back when your partner returns.” 

Disappearing gracefully from the office, Natasha left Foggy and Karen alone in the conference room.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” Foggy asked, shaking his head over losing his shot at winning the fucking Black Widow as a client. “Although, I guess it’s an honor she even showed up here. I mean, how’d she even hear about us?”

“She probably has friends in high places. Maybe she heard about how we were so instrumental in taking down Fisk, or there are satellites spying on us, or something.”

 

* * *

 

“You had the fucking Black Widow in our office, sitting in a chair at our conference table, and you couldn’t even behave long enough to give her our pitch?”

“Don’t make me regret coming over here and spilling the beans! I could’ve sent Karen. How many times do you think you can get beaten to a bloody pulp before she gets suspicious?”

“I have the flu!” Matt grinned cheekily, a valiant accomplishment due to the pain that racked his body every time he so much as breathed.

“By the way, did you hear the news?” Foggy unfolded the newspaper and waved it in the air. “You’re no longer the front-page vigilante, buddy. You have some competition in the department of most fucked up wannabe hero in town. They call the dude ‘The Punisher’. I’m kind of feeling that name more than Daredevil, but I guess you own it in your own way. Anyway, they say he must have some special forces training or something, the way he’s brutal yet efficient, but his identity is still unknown.”

Matt tensed and, hoping that Foggy would write the sudden movement off as discomfort due to pain, replied, “Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of the guy.” 

Foggy stood up and began pacing the room. “I think I’m coming to accept that my best friend, who I’ve thought all these years to be blind, actually has a fucking radar sense and fights crime in a red and black devil costume, but this guy… You can’t just go around killing every criminal in city! He killed a fucking purse snatcher!” By this point, he was waving his arms emphatically, his face reddening. Inwardly, he was thinking of his best friend, the optimistic kid from the first day of law school. Was Matt just one bad day—one shitty circumstance—from going all Punisher?

Sensing that his friend’s distress wasn’t close to abating, Matt cut in, “Don’t worry, I’ll stop him…” _Next time_ , he thought.

 


	2. Chapter 2: Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt almost encounters the Punisher, missing him by just a few minutes, but what Matt does find leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

 

Chapter 2: Criminal

Matt sensed from the heartbeat that the kid couldn’t be much older than 17 or 18. The wheezing breaths sounded wrong coming from a boy just entering the prime of his life, but Matt recognized immediately that these would be the boy’s last breaths if he didn’t receive immediate medical attention. He sprinted across rooftops toward the street in question, dialing 911 as he ran.  Filtering through the information processed by his radar sense, he realized that there was a woman nearby as well, a sobbing and distraught woman. As he swung down the fire escape to land on the sidewalk, he sensed that the boy and the woman with the only two people on the block. 

Concentrating on this new information, he perceived that the woman was hurt as well, though not as gravely as the boy. His instincts told him to help the woman first, but shrugging off that moment of hesitation, he moved toward the boy.

“Hang on; I’m going to get you some help. An ambulance is on the way.”

The boy was leaning awkwardly against the wall of a building, clutching his chest in pain. After sucking in a rattling breath, he let out a harsh cough, splattering blood onto his chin and on the collar of his shirt. Matt recognized the signs of internal bleeding, and despite knowing that he could not help, reached out to place a comforting hand on the boy’s arm. 

“D-don’t,” whispered the woman. She continued speaking, her voice wavering and each word quieter than the previous one, “D-don’t help him. He doesn’t deserve to be saved. Th-that man—he raped me.”

Matt retracted his arm, and his concerned expression twisted into a mixture of disgust and shock—both at the boy’s actions and at the venom in the woman’s words. Bile rose to the back of his throat, and he backed away from the kid, position himself protectively in front of the woman. 

She seemed so defeated, but her voice was sure. “Someone like you saved me; stopped the assault.” 

“Like me?”

The kid coughed again, spewing more blood, and twitched his arm in a vague gesture. “Steel-toe boot…he kicked…ugh…” More coughing. “Monster…Guns…Skull…” He rattled in a breath.

Flinching at the sound of the boy’s voice, the woman curled in on herself.

Standing between the woman and her rapist, Matt clenched his jaw. “Punisher…”

Torn between helping the kid and helping him along to his death, Matt felt a rush of relief flow through him at the sound of sirens approaching.  He would stay at the scene just as long as he needed to be there and no longer than that. As soon as the EMTs arrived, he would head to confession.

* * *

 

“Foggy! Thank god you’re back! We have a walk-in, and I think he’s getting a little antsy waiting in there.” 

A balding, middle-aged man sat in the conference, shuffling papers around grumpily. 

Foggy introduced himself to the older man, learning that the man owned a restaurant that was damaged when Daredevil was kicked through the window and knocked down a table.

“Right. So, Mr. Vaitones, was it?” 

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“What is that you want?”

“To sue Daredevil, of course. Not only did the repairs put me back 10k, but the danger’s also scared customers away! I’m losing business, and it’s all because of that Daredevil fellow! What gives him the right to wear that silly costume and come crashing through windows?”

Karen had stopped taking notes and was staring at Foggy with a guarded expression. He nodded in agreement with her unspoken words. _We can’t take this case. Even if we could somehow depose Daredevil, we can’t take this case._

 

* * *

 

“You’re shutting me out, Matt. You know you can talk to me. I’m here for you, and I’ll always listen to what you have to say, even if it’s fucked up and crazy and I don’t agree with it.”

Matt leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. He wasn’t feeling much like talking, having just learned that the kid hadn’t made it, bleeding out on the way to the hospital. Another victim of the Punisher.  Matt wouldn’t contest that the kid’s action were despicable, but the boy—like anyone else—had deserved at least a trial and maybe even an opportunity at rehabilitation.

Now, the kid’s corpse was lying in a morgue somewhere, while the Punisher was probably sitting in his Punisher cave and reloading his assault rifle. And since the woman was refusing to give description of the murdering vigilante, the police were no closer to finding him. Luckily for Matt, he had everything he needed to recognize the Punisher the next time the crossed paths. 

“—And I told her you’d be back soon, but she kept insisting that you call her, so I said—” Foggy stopped mid-sentence and glanced over at his friend. “Matt, are you even listening to me?” 

“The Punisher killed a kid today. A rapist, yes, but also just a kid. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d arrived during the attack.” 

Matt clenched and unclenched his fists. He really needed to punch something right now; if his shoulder wasn’t still healing, he’d head over to Fogwell’s, but now, when he was so close to being fully healed, he needed to save his best for the streets, where every punch mattered.

 


End file.
